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“The letter is the best proof we have of my identity,” she says. “But Lothar’s people could lie about the results of a test—they could destroy it. We’d need a loyal cleric to confirm its validity who the people also trust.”
The baroness next to Tinom lifts her chin at a haughty angle that immediately sets my nerves on edge. I don’t think Julita would have liked Baroness Sibelle either. The woman has gone to the effort of sculpting her dark hair into stylish whorls and painting her eyelids as if it matters how fashionable she is while the world is falling apart around her.
Her eyes flicker with a gleam that’s a little sly. “We don’t need to worry about confirming it yet. Simply showing the letter with its seal will be enough to convince most of the commoners. Look at how easily they’ve bought into the refuse Lothar and his ilk are selling them.”
The devout at her left nods eagerly. “Many are eager for solid ground after the news of King Konram’s and Queen Ishild’s—that is, your parents’—deaths. They’ll want to believe that the Melchiorek line can be continued.”
He blushes at his brief stumble. I can’t help wondering to what extent any of our allies believe Petra’s story without definitive proof.
Tinom might be insisting so urgently as much to convince Petra’s latest supporters as wider society. Maybe he even needs to convince himself.
“She has the testimony of her siblings as well,” Stavros points out, in a slightly ominous tone that makes me think he’s picked up on the same hints of doubt.
Petra shakes her head. “I won’t bring Klaudia and Jacos for the initial announcement. It’ll be too dangerous.”
I frown and motion toward Tinom. “You’re a master of illusions. Couldn’t we use a similar trick to what Lothar did at the temple last night—project the image of Petra into a public place so she can speak to the people without being physically under threat?”
My skin prickles as several gazes settle on me alongside his. Tinom’s is coolly assessing. He knows what I am—he almost ran off last night before Petra dashed over and flashed her family’s seal.
I suspect he’s still not all that happy to be making plans with a riven sorcerer.
The others, I don’t think he’s told, maybe because he isn’t sure what they’d think of him allowing my presence. But I haven’t put on my false noble airs like I did at the college. They probably have no idea what to make of me at all.
Tinom pauses before dipping his head in a slow nod. “Yes, of course, projecting illusions would be the obvious solution. Since we wouldn’t want to allow any direct interaction at that tentative early stage regardless.”
Petra knits her brow as if she isn’t pleased with this line of conversation. From getting to know her better over the past several days, I suspect she’d prefer to meet her subjects properly for such an important announcement.
But she can’t deny how necessary the precaution would be. “All right. Regardless, we shouldn’t set anything into motion until we have objective proof that I’m the heir to the throne. What’s the current situation in the Capital Palace?”
She looks at the standing soldiers. They’ve shed their blue uniforms so they can blend in when we venture outside, but I can see the military training in their postures.
Next to me, Rheave’s gaze darts over the assembled figures. He already confirmed that none of them were captured daimon who’d infiltrated the royal military, but I get the impression that he doesn’t totally trust them as humans all the same.
I can’t say I’d be keen to put my life in their hands either, considering how many of their colleagues have attempted to hunt me down in the past few months.
The man among them who has the highest rank—a major—glances at Stavros as if the former general will be able to answer for him before clearing his throat. “I’m afraid the palace is entirely overrun. The Order of the Wild encouraged total disrespect of the Melchiorek legacy. The initial looting has waned, but many of Lothar’s followers have settled within the walls. We couldn’t simply walk in and take what we want.”
Alek speaks up a little hesitantly. “Are you sure the letter would even still be there? It wouldn’t have been found during the looting?”
“My father had a secure hidden cache in his bedroom,” Petra says. “It could only be found by someone who knows where it’s meant to be, which at the moment is only our family.”
She turns to me. “Ivy, I hate to ask more of you, but it appears stealth would be a much more viable option for us than strength. That’s your area of expertise. I’m sure Tinom could give you additional protection with a temporary concealment enchantment.”
The magic advisor draws his posture up straighter, his shoulders going rigid. “It would be simple enough. But are you sure— To send her alone?—”
To leave the riven to her own devices, he must be thinking. As if I haven’t had plenty of opportunities to sow ruin before now if I’d wanted to.
Petra cuts a glance toward Tinom that stops whatever concern he was going to express before the rest of the words leave his lips. “There’s no one I’d trust more than Ivy with the task.” Her attention returns to me. “If you’ll take it.”
As I stare back at her face so like her mother’s, the traces of her father’s bearing showing in her calm composure, my throat constricts.
King Konram asked a lot of me before he knew what I was. But he never truly asked. It was either direct orders or commands phrased like a question that didn’t allow for an argument.
Petra is her father’s child, but also her own person. A person I find myself not particularly wanting to let down.
I wet my lips, picturing myself slipping through the halls of the grand palace I’ve only entered once before—and then in the midst of a daimon battle. Even with the help of a concealment illusion, it’ll be dangerous.
I’ve done dozens of things equally dangerous or more in the past few months, though. What’s another for the history books?
